


Not Black

by laschatzi



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-09
Updated: 2015-04-09
Packaged: 2018-03-22 01:38:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3710044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laschatzi/pseuds/laschatzi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>just a little ficlet about Killian's hair</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Black

 

It wasn't black; it never had been. Most people thought it was, but Emma knew better.

 

As much as Killian seemed to be obsessed with her hair and had to touch it on every occasion that arose, she was obsessed with his. She had touched it, run her fingers through it, messed it up many times, and even when she wasn't touching it, she loved looking at it, watching it, admiring it. Therefore she knew.

 

Yes, sometimes it did look black.

 

There were those moments when it was as black as a raven's wings, mostly when it was wet. When they were surprised outside by a thunderstorm. Or when the warm spray of the shower was raining down on them, streaming over their faces while he pressed her against the wall of the shower stall.

 

Other times, in the middle of the night, it had almost a blueish shade of black.  When she woke up in the middle of the night and watched him in his sleep, a beam of moonlight falling through the window and painting a midnight blue gleam on his hair, a shade that almost matched the color of his eyes.  _ Almost. _ Truthfully, nothing ever matched the color of his eyes.

 

Or when only the dim glow of her bedstand lamp lit the room while he was carefully, breathlessly moving above her, a stray strand of hair falling into his front, damp with sweat.

 

But in plain sunlight, like now, its true colors showed. They were standing outside Granny's, just about to get in and meet her parents for breakfast, and shared one last moment of relative privacy, stealing an embrace, a kiss. Emma was smiling up at him and had her arms wrapped around his neck, her hands messing up his always slightly unruly hair at the nape of his neck that felt so soft and irresistible to the touch. Sparks and flames seemed to dance in its dark strands, auburn highlights betraying that it was actually _not_ black but that one nuance lighter, perfectly matching the reddishness of his stubble.

 

That was another thing she could never get enough of touching. She put both hands to his face, running her fingertips from his temples down his scruffy cheeks and along his strong jawline, enjoying the tickle of his stubble against her palms. She loved the feeling of roughness that was usually paired with delight, whether it was when she caressed his face while kissing him, whether she felt it grazing her collarbone while he nuzzled the side of her throat, one of her weakest spots, or whether it was the light soreness left on the inside of her thighs.

 

“We should go inside, love,” his slightly amused voice woke her from her daydreams, “although I'm not complaining about your admiration.” Before she could fire him a saucy reply, he'd already turned around and was heading for the diner, pulling her firmly along. She threw one last glance at his hair and caught a fiery reflex dancing in it.

 

No, it was definitely not black.

 

 


End file.
